After a while he went limp and still. Slowly, she looked up and saw that his eyes were closed, his head resting against the wing of the chair.

She rose slowly and reached down to take hold of his right leg.

Tobias did not stir when she propped one booted foot alongside the other on the hassock.

She opened a cupboard, took out the blanket stored inside, and arranged it around him. When she was satisfied that he was covered, she checked the fire, picked up the candle, and went to the door of the study.

She let herself into the hall, closed the door softly behind her, and climbed the stairs.

A few minutes later she lay in her bed, alone in the darkness, looking up at the shadowed ceiling. She thought about Tobias sleeping downstairs in her study for a long time before she finally turned onto her side and closed her eyes.

The muffled clatter of pots and pans awakened Tobias the next morning. His first thought was that Whitby was making a good deal more noise downstairs in the kitchen than usual. His second thought was that he felt rested and refreshed. This was the first good night’s sleep he’d had since Beaumont Castle, and he’d needed it. He was no longer Anthony’s age and able to stay awake until dawn night after night without suffering the consequences, he reflected.

Those damned ravages of time.

Then he opened his eyes and saw the books of poetry on the shelves next to the hearth.

Lavinia’s study.

He glanced toward the window, where the cheerful light of a summer dawn was streaming into the cozy little room. The clang and bang was coming from Mrs. Chilton’s kitchen, not Whitby’s domain.

Images from his final waking moments last night came back to him in a warm, pleasant rush. The memory of Lavinia on her knees between his legs caused his cock to harden again.

He raised his eyes to the ceiling and contemplated a mental picture of his business partner upstairs in her bed. She would be snuggled beneath the quilts, flushed with sleep, her red hair tucked up beneath a pretty little lace cap.

Another telling crash of metal disrupted his reverie. Mrs. Chilton was apparently trying to send him a message. Light footsteps sounded overhead.

It finally occurred to him that Lavinia and her housekeeper were not the only ones in residence. Miss Emeline was a sensible young lady, but she would no doubt be shocked to the core if she were to discover that he had spent the night in Lavinia’s study. Young people these days seemed to have developed rather rigid notions of propriety. One could only hope that they would eventually outgrow them.

He tossed aside the blanket and got to his feet, stretching his arms toward the ceiling. He rolled his shoulders a little to work out the tightness created by a night spent in a chair.

He contemplated making use of the small water closet tucked away behind the staircase but reluctantly decided against it. There was every possibility that Emeline might appear just as he was emerging from the facility.

He could wait until he happened upon a private spot in a park on the way home.

With a few quick, efficient moves, he put himself to rights, shoving his shirttails into the waistband of his trousers and raking his fingers through his hair.

When he was ready, he went to the door of the study and opened it cautiously.

Mrs. Chilton stood in the hall, a steaming mug of tea in hand. Her expression was unreadable.

“Thought you might like to drink this on the way home,” she said brusquely. “Here’s a hot currant muffin for you to eat with it. You can bring the cup back when you return for breakfast.”

“Mrs. Chilton, you are an angel.” He took the mug and muffin from her and headed for the front door. “I shall see you in a couple of hours.”

“Aye, I’ve no doubt of that.” She followed him down the hall and reached around him to open the door. Casting a meaningful glance over her shoulder at the staircase that led to the floor above, she narrowed her eyes.

“This sort of thing cannot continue, sir,” she said in a low voice.

“There is a young, unmarried lady in the house. It simply won’t do.”

“I’m well aware of that, Mrs. Chilton.” He went outside onto the step. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Won’t last,” she said. “There’s a summer storm on the way. I can feel it coming.”

She closed the door very quietly but very deliberately in his face.

He blew the steam from his tea, took a large bite of the warm muffin, and went down the steps.

A trickle of awareness between his shoulders made him glance back at the windows of the upper floor of Number 7. Lavinia looked down at him from her bed chamber. She wore a flower-spattered wrapper. He could make out the little white lace cap that crowned her tousled red hair.

She raised a hand, smiled at him, and blew a little kiss. Mrs. Chilton was wrong about the storm, he thought. Birds were singing and the sun was out. There were only a few puffy clouds in the summer sky. It was going to be a fine day.

The sun was still shining two hours later when Mrs. Chilton cleared away the last of the breakfast dishes.

“I still say there’s a storm brewing,” she muttered as she swept past Tobias’s chair.

Lavinia looked up from her newspaper and saw a peculiar steely glint in Mrs. Chilton’s eyes.

“It won’t do any harm if there is. A little rain will wash out the alleys.” Tobias helped himself to some more currant jam. “Getting low on the jam, Mrs. Chilton.”

“Not at all, sir.” Mrs. Chilton prepared to back through the doorway into the kitchen, a loaded tray in her hands. I’ve got three more pots on hand. Expect that will do us for a few days.”

“I doubt it.” Tobias spread jam on a slice of toast. “I can go through three pots in no time, Mrs. Chilton.”

“If I were you, sir, I’d make those three pots last,” Mrs. Chilton said in a very pointed manner. “There’s no telling when I’ll have time to make up another batch.”

She bustled through the door and disappeared into the kitchen.

Tobias ate a bite of his toast.

Lavinia rattled her newspaper a little and glared at him. “Did you say or do something to annoy Mrs. Chilton when you arrived for breakfast this morning? She is in a rather sharp mood today.”

“Yes, I noticed that as well.” Emeline poured coffee into her cup.

“Quite prickly, isn’t she?”

“I won’t have you upsetting my housekeeper, Tobias,” Lavinia warned him.

He gave her an expression of injured innocence. “I don’t have any notion what you are talking about. I assure you, I said nothing untoward to Mrs. Chilton. Wouldn’t think of doing such a thing. Indeed, I am enormously fond of her. You know that.”

“Humph.” Unsatisfied but not quite sure what to do about the matter, Lavinia retreated to her paper.

She did not know what to make of the odd relationship that had developed between Tobias and the housekeeper. She had gained the impression that the pair had come to an understanding in recent weeks. Indeed, Mrs. Chilton had seemed to take a decidedly indulgent attitude toward Tobias, who, for his part, was inclined to alternately tease her and praise her cooking, especially any delicacy made with currants.

But things had changed since the return from Beaumont Castle.

Mrs. Chilton was no longer quite so good-natured and approving toward Tobias. It was as if she was in a state of expectation, anticipating that he would say or do something. But thus far he had disappointed her.

A pang of alarm shot through her. She lowered the newspaper again with a decided snap. “Tobias, I trust you are not plotting to steal Mrs. Chilton away from this household.”

He looked genuinely surprised by the accusation. “Wouldn’t think of it,” he mumbled around a mouthful of jam-smeared muffin.